Chapter XI

Entry #20:

There is simply so much to learn in this land of Hoenn.

Can you believe that there are some children in this region that can see the future? Or that can see the Sea Temple, the same way that August could, when she was by the sea?

It's so interesting. I think there is something magical happening here.

Brendan still kicked the ground and scowled at August as they journeyed towards Petalburg. He had stopped ignoring her completely, though, and she actually welcomed his irritated grunts. It was far better than Birch, right now, who was throwing a string of questions her way about Sinnoh, about their queen, about Crasher Wake.

Right now, she wanted silence.

They would be in Petalburg by sundown, according to Birch. That meant she only had a few hours to furiously think of a plan.

There were simply too many things she had to do once she met Uncle Norman. First, she had to ask him about Steven – about where his journal had been found, about any of his belongings, about whether there was any hope at all that he could be alive.

After all, that's why she had come to Hoenn in the first place.

Steven.

Her heart still rang as she thought of his name. She thought only she could sense it, but Brendan and Birch were giving her a funny look, so she quickly ducked her head down to hide her burning cheeks.

Steven Stone had to leave her head. There were other pressing matters, too.

Like the Sea Temple. Norman, according to Birch, had been one of the pirates to try finding it – and he had failed. Still, would he know where it was? Would he help her understand why she kept having visions of the Sea Temple, ever since she was a child?

"Muuuud," Magnus the Mudkip suddenly groaned.

Then, he let out a gargling burp. August sighed.

And she needed to find a way to get the Splash Plate out of Mudkip's stomach.

Uncle Norman seemed like a smart fellow, though. She was sure that he would find a way to yank it out of there. It was a freaking gift of Arceus, full of magic and mystery, and somehow, it couldn't even pull itself out of a fish's gut.

"You know," Brendan suddenly said. "Your uncle won't be solving all your problems."

August shrugged. "I never said he would."

"You didn't get any sleep last night."

"How do you know? Were you watching me?"

Brendan scowled. "No."

"Then how do you know?"

"You were noisy. That's all."

"In what way?"

"Leave it."

But August only gave him a curious look. His face was brighter than hers had been minutes ago, and his gaze was avoiding her own. She had read a whole book on the art of lying – only because her father had told her that it was a pirate essential – and she couldn't help but arch her brow as Brendan craned his neck to stare away from her.

He had clearly been watching her sleep.

Which was just… odd.

"Please don't watch me sleep, Brendan," she said gently.

Brendan hissed. "Will you stop with that—"

"Both of you," Birch cut in. "Just relax. Look around us. Breathe in the fresh air."

August made a small shrug again. It's not like she had been worked up or anything. She had just been politely requesting that she wasn't stared at while she slept.

Still, she followed Birch's hand, gazing around them, where the ground had soaked in the green foliage and summer rays, where the trees were swelling with scarlet berries and singing with the song of Taillow. The land smelled completely of mint – and it looked as if mint had been rolled up and pasted along each valley and small hill, with vines of lavender hugging the paths and brushing against their boots.

"Tell me about Uncle Norman," August finally said, turning to Birch.

The man cracked a grin – big, toothy, and full of holes. "His whole family are miracle workers, lass. His children could see things that no one else could – they could read minds, and even tell the future, some said. Incredible things."

"I'm part of his family," August pointed out, a hint of pride lingering there.

Brendan snorted. "And yet, all you can do is be an annoying snot."

"You are so lucky that I am four times more polite than you."

"Four? Why four?"

August clicked her tongue. "Well, if you define polite, it means that you are being considerate and respectful. I would say that you are only respectful for about eight hours of the day – usually, when you're sleeping. Meanwhile, I'm polite for roughly the whole day."

"Oh, pamper yourself up more, will you?"

"Both of you!" Birch said again, raising his arms in surrender. "Seriously! Breathe in. Can't you smell that? It smells of fresh berries."

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Smells disgusting. Unless that's the smell of August—"

Water came ripping out from Magnus's mouth, splaying onto Brendan's face. It only lasted five seconds – but five seconds was enough for the Mudkip to have completely drenched the boy.

"You know," Birch said thoughtfully. "Ever since Mudkip swallowed that plate of yours, his water blasts have been stronger."

Magnus smiled smugly. He was the only Pokémon that didn't seem too bothered by all the walking. Solace the Wurmple kept falling asleep on August's head, Percy the Poochyena had to keep stopping to paw at his leaking, bleeding eye, and Dare the freaking Zigzagoon had to be dragged by her tail to make sure she didn't bite into every single berry they passed by.

Brendan, with the back of his hand, wiped some of the water from his head. August tried not to smile.

It served him right, in all truths.

Still, she did reach for the towel slung over her shoulder that Birch had given her. But, as she handed it to Brendan, the boy simply tossed it onto the ground and snickered.

August didn't even bother arguing with him.

It wasn't worth it.

They settled by a small lake, where the light and wind made the surface ruffle and dance.

"We'll have lunch here," Birch announced. "I need to examine the Poochyena, so I can write about him in my books. Then, we can keep moving to Petalburg."

"You'll be able to help with his eye too, right?" August quickly asked.

Birch hesitated. "I certainly can try."

Then, as he sat with the Poochyena, probing his fur and his fangs, August glanced over at Brendan. The boy had sauntered off, on a mission to find rare Pokémon, his Treecko always a step behind him.

August sighed and stared down at the Pokémon she had dragged along.

She still didn't really like them, she decided. Magnus wasn't so bad – besides, they were stuck together, while the Splash Plate still glowed inside his gut. He had a sweet smile and, aside from crying whenever she forgot to give him a bit of attention, he wasn't too irritating.

Meanwhile, the Zigzagoon.

August stared at Dare, her eye twitching.

Berry juice painted the Zigzagoon's fur red, and as she looked carefully, she could see little fleas all over it. Then, as she leaned closer to stare, the Zigzagoon rolled over onto her back.

"She wants you to give her a belly rub," Birch called out.

August could have gagged. "No, thank you."

Then, she stood, moving away.

The quicker they got to Petalburg, the better. She could use a good bath. Besides, she needed to find a safe place to release the Poochyena, the Zigzagoon, and the Wurmple—

Solace the Wurmple.

Where was he?

Cursing, August moved away from the lake.

It didn't really matter if she didn't have the Wurmple anymore. She doubted Birch needed to write much about a little grub.

Still, the thought of the small, sleeping Wurmple being torn up by a Taillow—

She moved through past the blues of the lake, into the green of the hills, the canvas of mountain and sky twisting around her. It was a Wurmple – it can't have gone very far. Besides, Solace snored loudly when he slept; if she just listened carefully, she would probably just hear—

There was a low grunt. A sharp hiss.

August glanced up. Past the tree, past the brambly leaves that hid her face, there was a boy.

He seemed to be her age – and yet, he seemed so much younger. He was skinny and frail, with green hair so thick that it fell over his pale forehead and into his eyes. His white blouse seemed too big for him, with his collar angled all wrong, and his jacket wasn't buttoned right.

August considered calling out to him, but she was washed over by embarrassment.

Introducing herself to people just seemed like an odd thing to do. People usually knew her already. How was she supposed to just go up to someone, and strike up a conversation?

It was easier to just watch from the side, and hope he noticed her.

Though, considering he had a spear in his hand and was stabbing into the ground around him for support, August figured it was best to keep her distance.

He stumbled, his spear slashing into the ground – deep, despite his weak and gangly arms. Then, as August followed him with her gaze, she took a sharp breath.

Her Wurmple.

It was right there, on the ground, only steps away from the strange boy. And if he kept wandering the way he was, barely paying attention to his boots or the ground—

Oh, Arceus. He was going to stab his spear right into the sleeping Wurmple.

August stood there, frozen.

A small, niggling urge inside her was telling her to run towards the Wurmple. Another one – much bigger – was telling her to abandon Solace and just head back to Birch.

As the spear came daringly close to Solace, though, the small niggle won.

"Stop!" she cried out. "No, you're going to—"

It was too late though. The spear had plunged straight into the Wurmple.

Or so she had thought.

A bright light pierced through the clearing, sending the boy and his spear flying back. Meanwhile, as August moved for her Wurmple, she realised that it was no longer there.

Instead, a small, circular pupal blinked back at her, wrapped up in soft silk. Spikes shot through its skin from every side, and as she moved closer, August realised that it had two red eyes blinking back at her.

There was barely a scratch along its skin, too. Meaning—

"Oh," August said. Then, she scooped the Silcoon into her hand.

From behind her, the boy coughed – a grating, bloody sound, like his lungs were hacking out of his throat. August turned to face him, frowning at the spear in his hand.

"You need to be careful," she told him gently. "You could have hurt Solace."

The boy just stared at her. His skin was so pale it was almost transparent.

August almost felt bad.

She had frightened the poor boy.

"Solace is my Wurmple," she told him.

Again, he just blinked at her with those round, grey eyes.

"Who are you?" August asked. She placed the Silcoon on the ground, instead offering her hand out for a shake.

The boy said nothing. He just stared at her other arm – the missing one, torn into a stump.

August withdrew her hand awkwardly. She wished she had a blanket to hide that whole side of her body, at this rate.

"I'm not from around here," she told him.

He just kept staring. August furrowed her brows.

"Do you know how to talk?"

He blinked again. Then, he took a breath.

"Yes," he said.

It was so quick – so soft – that she had barely heard it. If he hadn't moved his lips in the awkward, trembling way that he did, she would have thought it had been in her imagination.

Still, she didn't know what to say after that. Neither did he, apparently, for they just stood there.

Waiting.

Waiting some more.

Until, finally, August reached down and picked up the Silcoon again.

"It was nice seeing you," she told the boy.

When she turned to leave, she expected him to say something – a small hum of agreement, or even a farewell.

When she got nothing, she just winced, and walked faster towards the lake, where Birch was probably waiting for her. She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, though, only to find that he was still there, eyeing her with caution.

August gripped onto Silcoon tighter and just kept moving.

There were some odd fellows here. That was for sure.

"Your Wurmple evolved?" Brendan blurted out the second August made her way back to the lake.

August held out the Silcoon in her hand. "Yeah."

"How?"

"It just started glowing. Then—"

"I know that part," Brendan snapped. "I don't get how it evolved when you haven't trained it. You haven't done anything with any of your Pokémon."

August gave him a funny look as he gestured at her Zigzagoon and Silcoon, her Poochyena and Mudkip. "Well, I'm not here to become a gladiator or anything."

"No," Brendan replied. "But what happens when you meet your uncle and get whatever you need? Are you just going to let go of them before you go to Sinnoh?"

"Yeah." August tried not to look bewildered as she added, "I don't care about them that much, and I don't think they care about me. Do you, guys?"

As if to prove her point, none of the Pokémon even glanced up at her. Silcoon kept sleeping, Zigzagoon kept chewing on her boot, Poochyena was whining about the bandages Birch had plastered across his face, and Mudkip had just dove into the lake.

"Right," Brendan said slowly. "I guess you'll have no problems then, and there's no reason for you to try training them."

"Yes."

"You'll go to Petalburg, meet your uncle, and he will help you get your precious plate back, tell you how to get out of here, and you'll never have to worry about this cursed place ever again."

"Cursed?" August repeated. "Brendan—"

He cut her off with a curt glance at the Silcoon. "That one is lucky, you know. Silcoon evolves into Beautifly. Not Dustox."

"That's your mother's favourite, right?"

"Aye."

"Where is she?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Birch flinch. He was staring longingly into the lake – quiet, sombre. Meanwhile, Brendan kicked at the ground.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

"Is she alive?" August tried.

"Drop it."

"Alright. Sorry." The whole air seemed far more tense than before – thin, and ready to snap. So, she quickly added, "I met this strange lad…"

Birch still stared into the water. But Brendan sighed.

"Who?" he asked.

"I don't know," August admitted. "He wouldn't talk to me. But he seemed very frail."

"I wouldn't trust him."

"Why not?"

Brendan looked over at his father. Closed his eyes for a long time.

"This is Hoenn," he said. "You can't trust anyone."

Again, the tension. So close to shattering.

August stared into the water.

The more time she spent here, the more comfortable she got – and yet, when she seemed to understand everything, it all seemed more confusing and strange once again.

"Do you still hate me?" she suddenly asked.

Brendan didn't even look at her. "Yes."

"Good to know," August said quietly. "Good to know.

Entry #26:

So, I tried to ask some townsfolk about the fortune telling twins, and about Norman, and about the war.

Everyone has told me to drop it.

And I'm starting to think Hoenn is a lot more damaged than the people here believe it is.